


Get Out Of Jail Free

by convolutedConcussion



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Um ???, Canon Until Proven Otherwise, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 13:02:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7316173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/convolutedConcussion/pseuds/convolutedConcussion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snapshots of a rescue mission.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Get Out Of Jail Free

**Author's Note:**

> Quick thing-- _technically_ this wouldn't be considered an AU until we get another season, right??
> 
> Also, there's no real plot here. I just wanted a rescue mission. I know I say this about a lot of my fic, but this is _really_ self-indulgent.

“Things that go boom,” Wynonna whispers.  Doc looks at her, unreadable.  “So, we’re thinking we’re just gonna… storm the castle?  That sounds like suicide.”

“It is suicide,” a voice calls commandingly from the doorway.  Turning so fast she almost makes herself dizzy, Wynonna stares at the woman.  She’s kind of frighteningly beautiful, all strong features and unimpressed gaze.  “You’re Wynonna Earp, right?” she asks, lips twisting in a way that’s almost familiar.

Gaping, she shakes her head sharply and mutters, “That depends, who’s asking?”

“I’m here to help you get Xavier,” the woman states simply, stepping forward.  She looks around quickly.  “Nice set-up you got here.  Anyway, I know the facility intimately.”

Exchanging a quick glance with Doc, who just shrugs, Wynonna cocks her head and asks, “I’m sorry—who are you?”

The woman’s lips tilt, something like amusement and not unkind, before dipping her head.  “I’m Raven Dolls.  X is my little brother,” she explains, holding out a hand.

Wynonna takes it, not quite matching her firm grip, and smiles crookedly.  “Okay, that’s not what I expected at all,” she laughs a little dazedly.  “I didn’t know he had—uh, family.”

“Did you think he hatched out of a mysterious egg in the middle of the desert?” Raven whispers conspiratorially.  “Because that’s what we tried to convince him as a kid.”  She shrugs her shoulders, grinning wolfishly, and _there’s_ the resemblance.  “Big sisters.”

“Yeah,” she responds, clearing her throat.  “Yeah, I’m familiar with that.”

\--

It goes like this:  He’s got memories stored in his skin that he’d filed away in happier moments.  It’s all the things he’d never admit to holding on to—the private smiles in quiet moments, the serene way she’d talk about “once this is all over” with absolute certainty that it would be all over someday, the gentle touches and reassurances.  It’s got her laughter and bad jokes and the pictures she’d snapped of him while he was eating ( _and_ the pictures he’d snapped at her pulling a face).  He’s resigned himself to the fact that, pride and something a lot warmer bursting through him, the last time he’ll ever see her will be her walking away from him.  (There will be moments when he’ll wish she’d taken him out, too.)

That resignation had chilled his blood the moment he’d first heard the word “treason” that day.

He doesn’t try to escape, but they keep him cuffed until his shoulders scream.  They may hit every pothole on purpose.  His fingers go numb.

In solitary, he’s got a lot of time to flicker through those memories.  Funny how due process doesn’t really extend to enemies of the state.  All this, he knew beforehand and it makes it somewhat easier to bear.  They won’t kill him, yet.  He knew that, too.  He’s an anomaly, an intrigue, proven to be detrimental to Black Badge as an _agent_ but not as a science fair project.  They keep him alive, just barely, steady stream of injections holding him there.

He doesn’t know how much time passes.  Lucado comes to gloat, brazen with power.

Maybe that’s a hallucination.

\--

“How do you know about me?” she demands suddenly, after Doc’s fucked off to… wherever he went.  There had been some significant looks, some nonsense muttering.  _Maybe_ it was just the fact that her whole worldview has shifted around her.  _Yeah_ , she thinks, _it’s probably shock_.

“He told us about you,” Raven answers, looking at her like _she’s_ the weird one.

And that’s not super reassuring.  “Uh—good things?”

Smirking, the other woman shakes her head slowly.  “Yeah, good things.”

“Wait, you said us.”

“There are five of us including him,” she says.  “He’s the baby.”  Wynonna is _aware_ she’s staring, but she had _really not expected that_.  Something in her gut twists.  This is not on her top ten list on how she wanted to find out about his family.  “Everyone gets one—for lack of a better term—‘get out of jail free’ card.  The code is ‘Love ya, big sis, gotta go save the world.’  Don’t blame me for that one.  I wanted a numeric code.”

With a hard snort, Wynonna pushes to her feet.  “That’s amazing,” she mutters, scrubbing her face.  “You’re not Black Badge.”

“Nope, even shadier.”

“And do you all have fingers in the shadowy government agency pie?” she jokes.

“Well…”  Raven pauses but gives her a look that clearly asks, _What do you think?_

Somehow reassured, she nods.  “When do we move?”

\--

They aren’t giving him _enough_.  He must have told the guard that twelve times.  Guard looks through him.  He’s got wings now—wings that feel alien and somehow _right_ because _they’re not giving him enough_.  He can’t sleep on his back, they ache, so long suppressed.  Their weight is ever-present.  It’s impossible to tell what time it is.  Soon, if they don’t stop watering down, he’ll have horns.  He wastes precious calories working out, the small space and isolation slowly driving him up a fuckin’ _wall_.

He’s mid-pushup when an explosion shatters through _everything_.  Something like hope blooms up in the center of his chest.  That’s _definitely_ her.

The small window in the single door in his cell screams open.

“Baby bro, hope you’re standing back!” an all-too-familiar voice—not the one he’s listening for—shouts.

Quickly, he backs as far from the door as he can.  The next bomb flings debris inward and he wraps his wings around himself as a shield.  All he can hear is ringing, vibrating through every nerve, and he thinks he’s bleeding, tastes blood.  He spits as an alarmingly armed silhouette appears in the dust-filled path they’ve just cleared.  She’s on him in a moment, touching his face.

He can’t hear but can read the way his sister says, “Oh, Xavier.”

\--

Surprise after surprise.  She can only stare.  It’s Dolls—it’s gotta be, but he’s.

He’s _different._

Understatement of the year.  Her mouth has fallen open and there’s probably about an inch of dust covering her tongue but he’s—he’s got _wings_ and those _eyes._   And for a long time he’s staring at her like he’s scared, like a cornered animal.

“What the fuck?” she asks, voice more like a squeak than she’d really prefer.

She realizes Raven’s holding her hands out placatingly.  “He’s… unique,” she says enigmatically.

“That’s—yeah I’d noticed that,” Wynonna gasps.

“Do you mind panicking about this on the way back?” she demands, tone suddenly hard.  She feels herself refocus on the task at hand, which is getting his ass out of this place.

“Yep, good plan,” she answers, swallowing the bubbling _massive fucking freak out_ in her throat.

“Good, I got some boys who are gonna fix this up, but we gotta get him outta here, okay?” Raven orders.  She gives her brother a quick shove, and Wynonna waves at him, mouthing _follow me_ and doing her best to smile in the face of the strange thing in those _glowing_ eyes.  The path she follows is carefully memorized, free of working surveillance.  Their footsteps shatter the oppressive silence.

\--

He’s shoved into the back of a truck covered in stickers advertising flower delivery, awkwardly spreading his extra limbs out on either side of himself because trucks aren’t made for this shit.  Barking orders, his sister swings into the driver’s seat.  Wynonna slams his door shut before hopping in after, and Raven stomps on the gas.  The ringing as dulled, he can mostly hear now.

“I like your girlfriend,” Raven laughs, low and rough.  She looks over at the woman next to her, grinning.  “She’s nuts, but I like her.”

“I—we—she’s not my girlfriend,” he croaks.

Raven’s eyes meet his in the mirror and he starts to say something else when Wynonna twists to look back at him.  “Don’t hurt yourself, boss,” she teases.

“Toss him that mysterious looking pack in the glove, would you?” his sister asks, gesturing.  As Wynonna hands it to him, Raven continues, “It’s all I could get, call Kit when you need a refill, she’s got some friends.  Black Badge aren’t the only ones with that shit, remember?”

“I remember, but they sure as hell made it easier,” he replies gruffly.  There’s a syringe in the pack, vials.  It takes him a long time to fill the right dose, and he feels the others pointedly not looking at him while he does it.  When he zips everything back up, Wynonna looks back at him, a question she doesn’t voice in her gaze.

\--

There’s a sick sort of voice in the back of her mind wondering where the wings had gone because, when he stumbles out of the truck at the meetup point to ditch it, they’re gone.  While Dolls waits in the tiny, rusted-out sedan, she and Raven stock up on energy drinks for the next leg.  On their way to the register, Wynonna snags a Danish and a cinnamon roll for Dolls, asks absently what Raven’s favorite is.

She looks at her kinda funny for a moment.  “Ho-Ho’s,” she answers at length.  When Wynonna turns back around, they’re suddenly much closer than they were before.  “Are you afraid of my brother, now that you’ve seen?”

“No,” she says faster than she means to.  “I’m a little freaked out and weirdly pissed off—scared?  Pfft.  You gotta be kidding me.”

Quickly, Raven’s expression softens.  “That was the exact right answer,” she smiles.

“You on the other hand—you scare me,” Wynonna laughs.

Head tilted, she seems to consider this for a moment before replying, “That works, too.  You should be afraid of Jean, though.  Second youngest.”

It’s not really clear if she’s being serious or not.  Something about her tone is just shy of troubling.

After checking out, Wynonna holds out her hand, muttering, “Keys.”

“I’m good,” Raven responds.

“No, all these Monsters are for me.  I got this one.  I’m gonna sleep like hell the next one, though,” she smirks.  She stops, steeling herself for a fight, but the other woman just shakes her head and digs in her pocket.  Keys in hand, she slides into the rust bucket as Raven climbs across the back seat.  She tosses her Ho-Ho’s to her and earns a mumbled thanks.

When she drops the bag in Dolls’ lap, he grunts, “Hey.”

“Shotgun gets ‘hang on to the bag of life-saving sugary goodness’ and ‘make sure the driver doesn’t fall asleep at the wheel’ duty, I don’t make the rules,” she frowns back.

“Cute.  I’m going to sleep.”

“The hell you are, you’re gonna tell me why your sisters know _everything_ about me and I didn’t even know they exist,” she whispers, sharp.

\--

It’s simple really:  He stays close to his sisters.  It’s smart, and he loves them.  Their bosses get trans-agency cooperation; he gets to see his family semi-regularly.  His sisters know about her because she’s his work, and his work is basically all he talks about.

“I don’t know how I feel about being your _work_ because you’re not making it sound too sexy,” she interrupts.

He doesn’t tell her that he hadn’t realized he’d mentioned her by name until Kit sent him an email asking why Laurel can’t stop demanding who this girl is who’s got their little brother so chatty.  It was bad.  They held a video intervention.  It apparently hadn’t helped because he kept talking.  It was Raven who had demanded pictures (she’d mentioned something about facial recognition but he’s never sure how to take it when he says that).  Eventually, they’d started asking, “By the way, how’s your girl?”  He hadn’t realized it was a _problem_ until he started looking for that.  The first time he’d sighed at relief at being able to mention something she’d done, he knew he was in too deep.  They _told_ him he was in too deep.  He doesn’t tell her that, either.

Dolls crosses his arms, fiddles with the heat.  “Turn it up one more notch,” Raven rumbles sleepily behind him, “And I’ll tell her about Paris.”

“I kinda wanna hear about Paris,” Wynonna gasps, reaching for the knob.

“No, nope.”

It must not have been the right response because she’s staring at him, beginning of a smile growing.  “Oh, I think I do,” she says lowly.

\--

By the time they get to the last stop, Wynonna’s leg is cramping because the damn car didn’t have _cruise control_ she was a _fool_.  She limps out of the bathroom, bitching under her breath as she goes, finds Dolls lurking in the narrow hallway.  She leans back against the wall across from him.

“Hey,” she whispers, throat suddenly tight.

Maybe she has slight _hopes_ , but she doesn’t _expect_ him to drag her forward, lips crashing together hard.  Someday, and she’s _definitely_ thought about it, she’ll kiss him sweet and lazy, but today with dawn lightening the landscape outside she lets it grow desperate.  She clings to him, holds tight, knows she’s whimpering into him, but he’s _there_ and _alive_.  His big hand flexes on the back of her neck, the other cupping her jaw, a gentle counterpoint to the bruising pressure against her lips.

A throat clears next to them and when they jerk away Raven is smirking at them.  “Not your girlfriend, okay,” she snorts knowingly, patting her brother on the shoulder before stalking past them.

Dolls catches her eye after a moment, and she can’t help the giddy laughter that bubbles out of her.

“I like her,” she mumbles.

They linger in each other’s space for a beat longer before he asks, “Where’s everyone else?”

“They, um—Doc stayed behind to blow shit up, Wave’s possessed maybe, and Nicole is making sure she doesn’t escape until we can figure out how to get that thing outta her,” she explains, grimacing.  He walks next to her on their way out, their elbows brushing.  “I was gonna maybe wait until we got to the homestead before telling you that last bit.”

“Shit.”

“Yep.”

\--

They’re only on the road for maybe ten minutes before Wynonna falls asleep, face pressed to the window in the back seat of the slightly _less_ miserable pickup they’d traded the sedan for.  It rattles and knocks but it doesn’t seem to disturb her.  He’s suspicious of the silence, the way his sister is too-still and too-quiet next to him.  He won’t break it, though.  That’s an interrogation technique, and he’s not falling for it.  After about an hour of this, she taps his wrist and mutters, “Dose time.”

“You do realize I’ve been doing this on my own for decades, right?” he responds dryly.  She looks up like she’s praying for strength even as he starts getting everything ready.  Before pushing the needle in, he can’t help looking into the back, where Wynonna is twisted in a position that shouldn’t be comfortable and is probably gonna end up with her bitching as soon as she wakes up.

“You should have told her,” Raven murmurs, eyes flicking to the rearview mirror.

“Mhm, and how?” he asks quietly.  “’Hey, guess what, I’m sort of a mythical creature.  Don’t worry, there’s medicine that keeps me mostly human.  Anyway, did you want Italian or Chinese?’”

“That could have worked,” she chuckles.

“This is why I never came to you for girl advice,” he sighs.  It’s true, Laurel’s the only one he trusts not to be fucking with him.  “Thanks for coming,” he says eventually, looking straight ahead.

“Are you having a stroke?” she teases.  After a long pause, she muses, “Mom and Dad are gonna be so proud to have another traitor in the family.”

“In my defense, I was trying to keep the world from ending,” he huffs.

\--

With the whole left side of her face numb from being mashed up against the cold window, Wynonna jolts awake, some nameless dread clinging around her chest.  She can see Dolls’ head lolling, and she does her best to hide her smile, but Raven catches her eye in the rearview mirror.  All she can do is offer a quick shrug.  In the small back seat, she stretches the crick out of her neck as well as she can.  Yawning, she asks quietly how much longer.

“Maybe an hour,” she answers lowly, lifting one shoulder.

“He asleep or just fakin’ it?”

“Oh, he’s sleeping,” she smiles.

“Good, tell me about Paris,” Wynonna demands, scooting forward to lean into the seat in front of her.

“I don’t think you’re ready for this,” Raven whispers.  “So, we don’t hear from him in over a week because it’s one of his first solo jobs.  We usually try to check in like once every couple of days so we start to get antsy, and then suddenly, at about four in the morning, I get this call from an unknown number and my brother is _sobbing_ and drunk as shit and he’s in the middle of Paris on a payphone and he tells me,” she has to pause because he snores, continues more quietly, “He tells me he’s just seen the most talented violinist—right on the street corner and he’s telling me all about how the guy played from his _soul_.”  She stops again, looking over at her brother.  “He goes, ‘Rave, I’ve never heard anything so beautiful, and I—‘ and he just can’t continue he’s just so overcome.”

Biting her lip, Wynonna rests her forehead on the back of Raven’s seat and chokes, “That’s the sweetest damn thing I think I’ve ever heard.”

\--

In the background, the shower’s going.  In front of him, his sister is pacing, muttering low into her phone.  When she hangs up, her intense gaze falls on him.  “Are you sure it’s a good idea for you to be staying here?” she asks suddenly.

Heaving a long sigh, he plants himself on the couch.  “I’m sure it’s a very bad idea to stay, but I’ve got work to do,” he replies, helpless.

“Honey,” she whispers, sitting next to him.  “Some would say that throwing you in a pit was a pretty clear severance.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” he grumbles, leaning into her when she hugs him.

“I know, but it would be so much easier to handle back home—or anywhere that isn’t this place,” she says softly.  The shower stops.  With a parting peck to his forehead, she stands.  “I gotta call Mom, she’s probably gotten news now.”

“Tell her I love her,” he calls after her.

“Tell her yourself, she’s gonna wanna hear from you after this stunt,” she mocks.  She steps outside, shutting the front door softly behind herself.

Letting his head fall back, he groans.  She _will_ want to hear from him, and she’ll have _words_ about it.  He’s not exactly looking forward to that.  He listens to Wynonna open and close the bathroom door, footsteps tacky on the wood floor.  She stops in front of him, soft sweater falling off one shoulder, wet hair pulled back.  She plops next to him, close enough for their shoulders to brush.

“If you’re not technically my boss anymore, does that mean I can touch you?” she teases, tired and flat.

“Within reason,” he smirks.  “Tell me about Waverly.”

“Well, she tried to shoot Doc in the face,” she sighs.

“I’m familiar with that compulsion,” he jokes.  Mostly.

“So,” she starts tentatively.  “Are you staying?”

\--

“Hey, Dolls,” Wynonna calls, stretching her way through the living room.

Brother and sister whip around to look at her.

“I… meant Xavier, sorry,” she amends, feigning a grimace.  Mostly she’s been wanting to do that for the last few days.  Then she spots the duffel.

“I gotta get going, I’m speaking at X’s funeral,” Raven explains wryly.  “I’ll have Kit email the video.”  Dolls gives her that sarcastic, scrunched-eyes smirk, which she mirrors perfectly.  “Besides, you two have work to do.”

“That’s—yes, please send that video, I need it,” Wynonna laughs.  She watches them hug, something big and warm growing up under her throat.  When they break away, Raven whispers something to him before coming closer.  “Are we gonna shake or…” she trails off, offering a hand awkwardly.

“Please, you come with me on a suicide mission and no one dies?  You’re at least entitled to an awkward hug,” the other woman grins.  It really is awkward—Raven’s like an inch taller than her brother—but it’s also weirdly nice.  “Don’t let his head get too big,” she mutters.  “And make sure he calls his mother.”

Snorting, Wynonna pulls back.  “This was rad, we should do it again some time,” she jokes.  “I’ve got your email—I’ll let you know when he starts being insufferable.”

“At least let me get home,” Raven snickers, looking back at her brother.

“I can already sense this was a terrible idea,” he sighs.

There’s a few moments of silence after she goes before Wynonna lets out a deep breath.  “Alright, on to the next disaster,” she says, rubbing her hands together.  “You ready for this?”

“Let’s go,” Dolls smiles.

On their way out the door, she asks, “We’re gonna have to have a conversation at some point, aren’t we?”

“Yep.”

“Yeah, really looking forward to that,” she winces.  “Let’s go exorcise my sister.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ayyy, yeah, like I said, no real plot. I have very serious headcanons about Dolls having sisters--and I just wanted him to have a great big _living_ family. You hear that, Syfy? Alive. Please. Oh! And it's not explicitly stated but I was rolling with a "maybe Dolls is just a fucken dragon" idea.
> 
> I have a [Tumblr](http://johnisntevendead.tumblr.com) where I am occasionally funny, cute, and amazing. Mostly I just beg for headcanons, prompts, and praise.


End file.
